


Grand Gesture

by vivianblakesunrisebay



Series: Post-Olive Branch [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Episode: s04e07 The Barbecue, Episode: s04e09 The Olive Branch, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-24 20:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianblakesunrisebay/pseuds/vivianblakesunrisebay
Summary: It's the week after Rachel's surprise appearance at the Rose family barbecue. David has a lot of feelings to process.





	1. Rachel

**Author's Note:**

> Starts the morning after The Barbecue (4.07) includes events from 4.08 and 4.09, and continues after. 
> 
> I've always been intrigued by the fact that David hasn't had a lot of experience having a relationship, and wanted to explore that in more depth.

David needed coffee.

Last night he’d had six sliders, a mountain of potato salad, another mountain of macaroni salad, and way too many potato chips. Some people clearly couldn’t follow simple instructions, _a smattering of everything_ did not mean _way too much of everything_—but no, he wasn’t going to think about Patrick right now. And then David had eaten the rest of that enormous cookie even though he was already uncomfortably full, because it was so soft and tasty but also because he needed to destroy the evidence of _4 months!_ and how the day had started compared to how it had ended—but he wasn’t going to think about that either.

Now it was way too early for him to be awake and he still felt full and disgusting, and all he wanted was coffee. He thought about texting Patrick and asking him to bring him coffee. Patrick would probably do it, Patrick who had brought him way too much food last night and who had looked at him with his big brown eyes full of apology and had said _you make me feel right._ David couldn’t stand it; it was too much and he wasn’t going to think about it. He’d told Patrick he needed to take some time to think, but he couldn’t think, not when it was so early and he needed coffee.

He would just drink the coffee they had in the motel lobby, that’s how far he had sunk. He didn’t care. 

He put on his sunglasses and his Uggs but otherwise he was wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants he had slept in and he didn’t care, he didn’t care. He stepped out of his room into the too-bright sunshine, and almost collided with someone just outside the door. He and the someone both drew back, apologizing, and it was Rachel. 

“Oh, hi,” she said, stuttering a little. Her eyes showed recognition; she obviously knew who he was. She had a little duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She was leaving town; she was going back home, to her hometown, Patrick’s hometown. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable —a deep flush was working its way up her neck and into her cheeks — but still somehow effortlessly cute, with her cascade of red hair and her small bones and tiny waist. David felt like a hulk, the Incredible Hulk, looming over her.

An awkward silence stretched and stretched between them.

Rachel finally said, “You’re David, right?”

David knew he had to respond, he had to say something. He felt his mouth twisting into a rictus grin, heard his voice coming out, false and too loud. “Yes, yes I am. Hi!”

“I’m Rachel,” she said. “You probably know that.”

“Of course. Rachel!” he said, nodding furiously.

Rachel said, “Patrick told me about you guys.” 

Of course, she and Patrick had talked last night. David’s skin crawled, thinking about Patrick talking about him with Rachel while David had been gorging on macaroni salad. He wanted to ask Rachel to tell him everything, everything Patrick had said, how he described this thing they had, what he said about David, how he explained that he was dating a guy now. But of course he couldn’t ask, he couldn’t ask.

His phone pinged in his pocket. He took it out, grateful for the interruption.

**Patrick:** Don’t worry about coming into the store  
**Patrick:** Take all the time you need

Rachel was looking at him. He could see in her eyes that she was wondering if the text was from Patrick. He felt a jolt of triumph and fierce possessiveness. _Yeah, it’s him, and he’s texting me, not you._

She said, “I’m sorry if my coming here screwed anything up.”

The triumph abruptly ebbed, leaving him tired, so tired. Oh, great, she was _nice_. Nice like Patrick was nice. Suddenly he could see her together with Patrick; they fit. Their bodies fit—Patrick compact and muscular, Rachel petite and graceful. A cascade of images tumbled through his head, Patrick and Rachel holding hands; Patrick and Rachel going to prom; Patrick and Rachel in wedding attire, Rachel in a simple, tasteful gown, Patrick in a tux, Patrick swooping her up to carry her over the threshold, her veil trailing over his shoulder. She was so light and small, he could carry her easily. That gave way to a vivid image of Patrick lifting Rachel as she wrapped her legs around his waist, his broad palms cupping Rachel’s tiny ass as he pushed her against the wall, his jeans unzipped, pressing into her — 

David shook his head. He felt sick. He needed coffee.

Rachel was looking away. She said, “I came here for an answer, and I got one.” She looked at him and gave him a small, neutral smile. “See you later, David.” David watched as she got into her car, getting in and slinging her duffel bag into the passenger’s seat in one smooth movement. She backed her car out of the motel lot and drove away.

_But what’s my answer?_ David wanted to scream after her. 

*

He got his coffee. It was even worse than he had imagined it could be, but he drank it anyway. He took a cinnamon bun. On the one hand he still felt bloated and full; but, on the other hand, cinnamon buns. Stevie wasn’t at the front desk, thank God, so he got back in his room without having to talk to anyone else. He got back in bed, but now Alexis was awake. She was sometimes a morning person, and she was really keyed up because she was taking her finals this week. She had done all her assignments online, but for the finals she had to go to Elmdale. She buzzed around the room, getting ready, talking all the while.

She was telling him a long story about Ted and a text she had gotten from him yesterday, which turned out not to be for her. It was a very long story. David buried his head in his pillow, trying not to listen.

“But, look David!” Alexis said, “After all that, Ted did text me, after all.” Alexis tried to put her phone in front of his face. He batted it away. She read it to him: “‘Nice to see you today, winky face.’ Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

“Congratulations,” he said. Great. Maybe Alexis and Ted would get back together, and then Alexis would be happy while he was alone and suffering. Then he felt guilty for thinking that, so he tried to be interested in what she was saying. “Did you reply?”

“No, David. That’s what Rachel made me realize. Ted is with Heather, and I need to move on.”

David managed not to do a double take. He kept his head pressed into the pillow. “Rachel? How is _Rachel_ a part of this story?”

“Weren’t you listening, David? Rachel was the reason I went to see Ted, because she told me she and her fiancé had gotten back together a million times by pretending to text each other accidentally.”

“Her fiancé. You mean Patrick,” David said.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t know that at the time, obviously.”

“She said she and Patrick have gotten back together a million times.”

“Something like that.”

David waited, but Alexis didn’t say anything else. She was looking at her phone, smiling slightly, probably re-reading the text from Ted. He sat up, abandoning the pretense of not being interested in this. “Oh my God, Alexis! Can you just tell me exactly what she said?”

“She didn’t really tell me that much! Why don’t you just ask Patrick?”

He said evenly, spacing the words out, “I am not ready to talk to Patrick, I am taking time. So I am asking you to tell me what … she … said.”

“Okay, David! It’s not like I knew any of this was going to matter, so I wasn’t, like, memorizing every detail.” Alexis screwed up her face, concentrating. “When I first met her she said she was here to try to win back her fiancé.”

David remembered what Patrick had said: _she’s been texting me the last few months, expecting us to get back together._ “How was she going to do that?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Oh my God, you’re useless.”

“She really didn’t say, David! But she must have done something, because when I saw her later she was all sad. She said something about how her grand gesture hadn’t worked.”

“Grand gesture?” Had Patrick seen her earlier that day, before the barbecue? He remembered the shocked look on Patrick’s face—_Rachel, what are you doing here?_—so it seemed unlikely. But Patrick might still have been shocked even if he had seen her earlier, because he wasn’t expecting to see her _again._ David felt a stab of betrayal, realizing he didn’t know; he had no way of knowing. Patrick could have been texting back and forth with her all day; he could have talked to her on the phone; he could have gone to see her, long enough for her to deliver her grand gesture, whatever it was—and all the time saying nothing, nothing about it to David.

Meanwhile telling David he needed to start _trusting people. _

Alexis went on,“That’s when I invited her to the barbecue. Which, I kind of feel bad about now?”

“Oh, you feel _kind of_ bad. Thank you so much.”

“She just looked so sad about her fiancé—"

“Stop saying her fiancé! It’s Patrick! My boyfriend!”

“—and I was feeling sad too, about Ted, and she’d tried to help me, and it just felt like this girl solidarity moment.”

“You had literally just met her.”

“I know, David! I’m sorry, but she actually seemed, like, cool? Like smart and pretty and super sweet.” Alexis made an apologetic face, the corners of her mouth pulled down, her hands twisting together.

“Stop doing that with your face.” He flopped back on his pillows. 

“Unggh!” she said. “You asked me! Sorry for trying to help!”

“Well, you didn’t.” He closed his eyes. 

Alexis said, “Anyway, David, you do realize it doesn’t matter how nice and pretty Rachel is? Have you forgotten Patrick is gay? And he seems to like you for some reason?” 

“Go away,” he said. “Go take your final. You don’t want to be late.”

“Unggh!” she said again. But she went.

_Smart and pretty and sweet. _ His brain, always alert to an opportunity to torture him, eagerly fed him all the images it had conjured of Patrick and Rachel earlier, plus more. He’d never seen Patrick and Rachel even standing near each other, why was it so easy to picture them together? Patrick and Rachel holding hands, ice skating, slow dancing, whatever the fuck teenagers did in small towns— hayrides? His brain supplied that picture too. It was easy. Patrick down on one knee, proposing. Rachel and Patrick’s wedding, then that image again of Patrick lifting Rachel with his strong arms, forearms flexing, his hands on her ass, lifting her easily, pressing her against a wall, pressing into her.

But then David’s brain took a left turn. Another image came, a memory: Patrick naked in bed with David, his lashes swept down over his eyes, his voice low, telling David, _I never knew sex could be like this, the way it is with you._ Patrick’s hands on David’s body, giving truth to his words.

Patrick might not have told him much about his past, but he’d been crystal clear on one thing: he thought everything about sex with David was a fucking revelation. The day after their first kiss, Patrick had said, _when you kissed me, that felt like my first time._ It made David’s heart hurt, remembering.

That sex that Patrick hadn’t enjoyed, most of it, had probably been with Rachel.

David caught a glimmer of something. Maybe David wasn’t the only one who thought Patrick and Rachel fit together so well from the outside; maybe other people saw it too, family, friends, all saying, “You make such a cute couple!” Maybe Patrick had heard that, over and over, and it made him think it must be right. What had Patrick said? _It never felt right._ Maybe even Rachel … but David’s brain immediately rejected the idea that anyone could not be in love with Patrick, and then the whole thought floated away; he couldn’t keep hold of it. He lost it, but it left something. His brain seemed stunned, finally. It was—empty. Quiet.

He took out his phone and read the text from Patrick again. _Take all the time you need._

**David:** ok  
**David:** thanks

His brain stayed quiet. He slept, off and on, the rest of the day.


	2. Summer mix

The next morning when he woke up, his brain was back in attack mode, coming at him from a different angle. Okay, it said, so Patrick doesn’t want to be with Rachel. She’s not the Other Woman, no matter how smart and pretty and sweet she is. That doesn’t change the fact that she was texting Patrick for months, here and now, and Patrick didn’t say a word about it. Isn’t that the real issue here?

_I didn’t want it to affect what we have,_ Patrick had said. But that didn’t make sense. Did Patrick think David would have broken up with him over a few texts from an ex? David didn’t break up with people. Patrick should know that. It must be something else.

It was day two without a shower or shave, without his moisturizer regimen. He knew he looked like death warmed over. He put on his Uggs and his sunglasses, as before, and went in search of motel coffee. This time Stevie was at her place at the front desk. She watched as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

“You’re drinking motel coffee? Things must be worse than I thought.”

David didn’t respond, just slowly sipped his coffee. It was even worse than yesterday, which was quite a feat.

“Not going to the store today?”

“Patrick said he would take care of the store while I —“

“Wallow?”

“Take some _time_,” David said. He gestured with the hand not holding the coffee. “To process my _feelings_ about Patrick _lying_ to me.” For once _he_ was not the one who had screwed up, and Stevie could damn well acknowledge it. “Lying by omission,” he added, so she would see he was being scrupulously fair.

“And how’s that going?”

David’s mouth twisted. The problem was, he didn’t really know how this worked. He had never had a relationship get to this stage. He knew it went something like this: you took time, you processed your feelings, and then you went back and you told that person what your feelings were. And then they told you about their feelings, and then you talked about both your feelings together.

It sounded terrifying.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Stevie said. “Those came for you.” She nodded at a bouquet of flowers on the end of the counter.

“For me?” David approached the bouquet hesitantly. It was a summer mix, vivid reds and oranges and yellows. He reached out and gently touched one of the flowers, a bright red peony. “These are for me?” God, he hated his voice when it sounded like that, but no one, literally _no one_ had ever sent him flowers before.

There was a card. He plucked it out and turned away to open it, conscious of Stevie’s eyes on him. It said _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rachel. Ready to talk whenever you’re ready._

He could feel tears springing to his eyes. Oh God, this was bad. 

“Who are they from?” Stevie asked innocently. 

David pressed his lips together. Stevie knew who they were from. He cleared his throat. “Personally, I prefer flowers with a little more subtlety.”

“Subtlety?”

“Subtle colors. Peach, pale pink, white. Silvery foliage.”

“Subtlety, got it. Do you want me to pitch these in the garbage for you?” Stevie stood up and reached for the vase.

David’s hands clutched around it. “No! I—I might as well take them.”

* 

Back in his room, he got back into bed. Alexis was gone already, taking another final, he supposed.

He was hungry. He’d been so distracted by Patrick’s flowers he hadn’t even gotten a cinnamon roll. He lay on his side and stared at the vase on the shelf, at the vivid summer flowers, orange snapdragons and yellow dahlias and the big red peony.

A feeling was welling up inside him, overwhelming him, a familiar feeling that he couldn’t quite place; the feeling got bigger and bigger, and he felt like he was suffocating; it was an urgent feeling, like he needed to do something, but he didn’t know what; he thought maybe he wanted to cry, but that wasn’t it, and then the feeling crystallized, and he wanted, he wanted—-

He wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck Patrick for sending him these flowers. He was still mad at him but he wanted to go to Patrick right now and fall to his knees in front of him and suck him off. He was shaking with how much he wanted to.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this anymore. He knew why this feeling was familiar; he used to feel like this all the time. Desperate for any crumb of attention, so grateful for it that he’d do anything for a little bit more. He’d thrown himself at people, so many people, when it seemed like they were losing interest, begging them with his body not to leave him, to stay with him a little longer, if only for one more fuck.

Sometimes it worked.

It was desperation sex. He and Patrick had had sex in so many moods and flavors, and there had definitely been times they had been really fucking hungry for it, desperate for it, but what he was feeling now was something different. It was more like hate sex. I-hate-myself sex.

He didn’t want to have hate sex with Patrick. 

But his body thought any kind of sex with Patrick sounded really fucking good right now, and his brain had seized on the idea and was unspooling a scenario for him, playing like a movie in his head: he saw himself in Patrick’s bedroom, in the middle of the night; Patrick was asleep; David didn’t say a word, just crawled into Patrick’s bed and then he was kissing him awake, climbing on top of him; Patrick kissing him back, hard and hungry; they were tearing at each other’s clothes; and Patrick was flipping him over, opening him up, pressing his cock inside him, fucking him and fucking him until he couldn’t think; neither of them could think or talk or be anything but two bodies, bodies moving together, slick and hot.

He was hard and aching. God, this was bad.

Alexis wasn’t here. No sound from his parents’ room. Maybe he had time. He went to the bathroom and got a handful of tissues, got his lube from his nightstand drawer. He got back in bed, pulled the covers over himself, and pulled down his sweatpants.

He usually did this in the shower. He didn’t like mess, and he was always paranoid about someone walking in on him. He knew he was taking a chance, but this would be quick. 

It was quick. When he was done he felt a little calmer. He cleaned himself up, threw away the tissues, tucked the lube back in its drawer. He got back in bed. God, he was pathetic. Jerking off over a bouquet of flowers.

He was also starving. He wanted French fries and a carton of chocolate ice cream. If he couldn’t fuck, he wanted to pig out. 

This is how he had driven everyone away, by being a bottomless pit of need.

Pigging out—well, he could do that at least. David bribed Stevie to go to the cafe and get him fries and a hot fudge sundae by offering her the same. She brought the food to his room and they ate together. It was nice being with Stevie, not talking much. 

After Stevie left, he felt a little better. 

He reached for his phone.

**David:** Thank you for the flowers

**Patrick:** You’re welcome  
**Patrick:** I mean it about being ready to talk  
**Patrick:** You can text me  
**Patrick:** It doesn’t have to be in person

David’s stomach clenched. The Talk. This is what he was terrified of.

He was exhausted. He’d done nothing today but eat french fries and ice cream and jerk off once, but he felt like he’d run a marathon. Not that he’d ever actually run a marathon or anything close to it, but how he imagined it might feel.

At least, he thought, he hadn’t actually gone to Patrick to have hate sex. He’d jerked off about it, but he hadn’t done it. As far as Patrick knew David was still doing the mature thing of _taking time_, thinking through his emotions so they could have The Talk. Of course David wasn’t making much progress on that, but Patrick didn’t know that.

Trying to fuck his way out of his problems was still officially something he _used_ to do, not something he currently did.

He slept.


	3. Spa

On the third day, Stevie dragged him out of bed and took him to a spa. In the car on the way there, his phone pinged.

**Patrick:** sorry to bother you  
**Patrick:** we need more of that natural bug repellent and I can’t find the vendor file

**David:** I don’t know where the file is but her name is Tricia she’s Brendas cousin  
**David:** you can get her number from brenda

**Patrick:** got it  
**Patrick:** I’ll call her

David hadn’t created a vendor file. Patrick probably knew that. If they weren’t_ taking time_ right now Patrick would have teased him about it._ Oh, there’s a file? I don’t want to create another one if you already created one. Let’s keep looking._

**Patrick:** the bug repellent was a good find people really like it

**David:** I told you 

**Patrick:** you did tell me

The bug repellent was a good find, because unlike most bug repellents it smelled fresh and citrusy. David had said “Some of us don’t want to smell like a chemical waste dump when we’re camping,” and Patrick had asked him all these innocent-sounding questions about his camping experiences, and of course David had never camped in his life but didn’t want to admit it after implying he had. David had eventually tripped himself up and revealed his total ignorance of camping, and Patrick laughed at him; but by then David didn’t care because Patrick was looking at him with his eyes shining, like David knowing nothing about camping but trying to pretend he did was his favorite thing that had ever happened.

God, David missed him. He suddenly wished fiercely that he could just rewind all of this and be back to a month ago, a week ago. He had been so happy, and now he was_ this._

**Patrick:** how are you

**David:** ok  
**David:** Stevie is taking me to crystal elms  
**David: **its a spa in elmdale

David wrote,_ it’s really a spa we’re not spending the night in the woods._ He deleted it. 

**Patrick:** gotcha  
**Patrick:** have fun

*

That night, with Stevie asleep beside him, David had to admit the spa was a good idea.

He was clean for the first time in three days. His skin was fresh and glowing from the face mask, Patrick had sent him a bottle of wine and a nice card, and Stevie had told him he was her best friend.

He thought about what he told Stevie, that he hadn’t asked Patrick about his past because he didn’t want to have to tell him about his own. He still didn’t, but—maybe he could ask one question.

_You can text me, _Patrick had said. David took out his phone.

**David:** Thank you for the wine

**Patrick:** You’re welcome  
**Patrick:** How was the spa

**David:** Good

Then, quickly, before he lost his nerve, he typed:

**David:** Did you see rachel before the barbecue  
**David:** Earlier that day I mean  
**David: **Did you know she was in town

**Patrick:** No I didn’t see her  
**Patrick:** She never told me she was here  
**Patrick:** But she did text me 

**David:** What did she say

**Patrick: **She started with small talk stuff  
**Patrick: **Then she said she missed me and asked if she could see me  
**Patrick: **I said no  
**Patrick:** I thought that was the end of it

**David:** So what was her grand gesture

**Patrick: **?

**David:** She told alexis she was coming here to do a grand gesture

**Patrick:** Oh  
**Patrick:** She probably meant driving all the way here

**David:** Thats not a grand gesture  
**David:** That’s just driving

**Patrick:** What would qualify as a grand gesture

David thought that was a stupid question. Patrick should know; David had made him watch enough romantic comedies. Riding up to someone’s door standing up in a white limo, that was a grand gesture. Racing through the airport to declare your love before their plane took off. Holding a boom box playing “In Your Eyes” over your head outside your lover’s window.

Singing “The Best” in front of the whole town at an open mic night.

**David:** idk  
**David:** But its like she didn’t even try

**Patrick:** Did you want her to try

**David: **That has nothing to do with this  
**David:** Im just speaking objectively here

**Patrick:** Oh objectively ok

Patrick was_ teasing _ him. He could feel the little hum of laughter behind that text. But before he could think of how to respond, Patrick texted again.

**Patrick: **Our relationship wasnt like that  
**Patrick:** We didn’t do grand gestures

_You proposed. That’s like the biggest grand gesture of all._ David’s heart was pounding. Was this The Talk? Were they having The Talk?

He watched the three little dots that meant Patrick was typing.

**Patrick:** We kept getting back together bc it was familiar  
**Patrick:** I kept thinking there had to be more  
**Patrick: **But i didn’t know what i was looking for  
**Patrick:** Until I found it

David felt a throb of warmth in the pit of his stomach. He knew what was Patrick was saying; that he had found it with him. _You make me feel right._

David wrote_ oh really where did you find it,_ then deleted it.

**David:** Can I see the texts  
**David: **The ones from Rachel

The three dots again, and then an image file came through. David tapped on it, and it filled his screen. It was a screenshot of Patrick’s text chain with Rachel. The texts at the top of the screen were from a few weeks ago, David saw. He started reading from the top.

**Rachel:** jh;  
**Rachel:** oh sorry butt text  
**Rachel: **btw I ran into your mom at the q  
**Rachel: **She said you’re doing well  
**Rachel:** I told her to tell you hi  
**Rachel:** But now I can tell you myself  
**Rachel:** Hi  
**Rachel:** Was she right are you doing well

**Patrick:** Yes I am

**Rachel:** Im glad  
**Rachel:** So when are you coming home for a visit

**Patrick:** Not anytime soon  
**Patrick: **Sorry

**Rachel:** ok

Then came the ones from three days ago, the day of the barbecue:

**Rachel:** Paul broke up with ellie  
**Rachel:** You were right he was a dick

**Patrick:** That sucks tell ellie I’m sorry  
**Patrick: **Never mind I’ll call her

**Rachel:** I miss you  
**Rachel:** Id like to see you

**Patrick:** Thats not a good idea

**Rachel:** are you afraid we’ll get back together  
**Rachel:** jk i shouldn’t have said that  
**Rachel: **But are you  
**Rachel:** Remember we always do  
**Rachel: **PP I really miss you  
**Rachel:** I could come see you

**Patrick:** I don’t want to see you  
**Patrick: **Don’t come  
**Patrick:** I’m sorry

David read the texts. Then he read them again. He was overwhelmed. Paul? Ellie? The q? Patrick’s_ mom_? PP? Was that a typo, or some kind of nickname?

**David:** PP?

**Patrick:** She used to call me peppermint patty

Pet names. Cute. David felt like he was choking. Why had he started this? He put his phone down and turned over in bed so he didn’t have to look at it.

_We got together in high school._ Patrick was thirty-one, so Patrick had been with Rachel, off and on, for at least 13 years, probably more.

David remembered the cookie,_ 4 months!_ in pink icing. It was such a short time. It was a ridiculously short time, and celebrating it was ridiculous too, like celebrating … kindergarten graduation. But it wasn’t David who had done that; no,_ Patrick_ had been the one to give him a stupid cookie for his stupid accomplishment. But David was the idiot who admitted it was the longest relationship he’d ever had.

If they had The Talk, he would have to tell more.

He picked up his phone again. Patrick had already texted him back.

**Patrick:** Do you want to ask anything else

**David:** No

**Patrick:** ok

David looked at his “no”— it looked so abrupt. Patrick had answered his questions and shown him Rachel’s texts. It wasn’t Patrick’s fault David freaked out about it. 

**David:** thank you for showing me the texts

**Patrick: **You’re welcome  
**Patrick:** I’m glad you texted me  
**Patrick: **goodnight David

David could almost hear those three texts in Patrick’s voice, warm in his ear. Patrick always said _goodnight David _like that: at the end of a date, when they talked on the phone before bed; even if they were in bed together and just had a bunch of sex, he’d say_ goodnight David _before they went to sleep. It always made David feel warm; it was so sweet and polite.

**David:** goodnight Patrick


	4. Truffles

When David got back to the motel the next day, Alexis was studying, but as soon as David came in she started talking to him instead. She was telling him about her date with Miguel the night before.

“When he found out I’d been engaged to Ted, he_ left._ Like, he actually left me standing in the bar."

“Maybe you should date someone besides veterinarians,” David said.

Alexis glared at him. “It’s not like I have a lot of choices here, David.”

David took out his journal, turned to the next blank page, and wrote THE TALK across the top.

Alexis said, “I shouldn’t have gone out with him anyway. I should have just stayed home and studied for this final.”

“Like you’re doing now?” David said.

Alexis made a face at him and turned back to her textbook. After a minute she pushed it away. “This is my worst subject, okay?” she said. “Patrick was helping me with it, but now that you guys are ‘on a break’ or whatever, I can’t ask him for help anymore.”

“Mm," David said. "I’m so sorry that my_ trauma _is making it hard for you to study for your Elmdale College final.”

“Well, It’s my last final, and if I don’t pass, I’m not going to graduate, which is actually kind of important, David.”

Their mother came in. “David, I’m wondering if I might bend your ear for a moment.’

David put down his pen. He obviously wasn’t going to make any progress right now. “What?” he said.

“We're having a town forum today,” his mother said. “And I thought it might help us all advance the people's work if there was some cheese to nibble on. Perhaps some wine. ”

“We have lots of wine and cheese at the store.” David said. “Go buy whatever you want.”

His mom looked at him reproachfully. “Where’s your sense of civic responsibility, David?”

There was a knock at the door, and David went to answer it, saying, “I’m not giving you free cheese and wine!” He opened the door. It was a delivery man holding a package. “Delivery for David Rose?” the man said. 

Alexis looked up and said, “Ooh, something else from Patrick?” 

“Maybe,” David said. He was starting to smile, already knowing it was. He brought the package to the table. Alexis followed him and leaned over his shoulder while he opened it. It was a box of chocolates, good chocolates: truffles. There was a card; he picked it up.

His mother said, “Chocolates? Does this mean you and your beau haven’t resolved your little tiff?”

“It was more than a_ little tiff,_” David said.

“Does one secret fiancée really warrant all of this turmoil, David? It’s not as if she appeared with Patrick’s_ bébé_ in her arms. Now that would have been a plot twist.”

“This is not an episode of Sunrise Bay!” 

“All right, dear,” his mother said, “No need to get excited.” She nodded at the bouquet on the shelf. “I see he’s sent you flowers as well. Well, one must demand some groveling for the sake of one’s self-respect. Just … don’t wait too long, dear.”

She patted his hand and then she was gone, _Don’t wait too long_ reverberating behind her and opening up a pit in David’s stomach. 

David went back to his package. He opened up Patrick’s card. It said,_ Thank you for reaching out yesterday. These chocolates are for you and are NOT to be shared with anyone else._

“Well, he certainly knows the way to your heart,” Alexis said, reading over his shoulder. She reached out to touch the lid of the box.

David snapped the card shut and slapped his hand over the box. “Oh my God, do you _mind?”_ He picked up the card and the box and all its packaging, trying to get everything away from Alexis.

A piece of paper fluttered out. Alexis snatched it up. 

“Give that back!” David said, but his hands were full and she danced out of his reach. She unfolded it.

“Aw! Look David, Patrick put all the flavors in a little spreadsheet for you,” she said, holding it up for him to see. “That’s, like, so cute and nerdy.”

David put down the box so he could snatch the paper back from her. He spread the paper out on the table next to the box of chocolates, so he could see which ones were which. Milk chocolate, chocolate mint, caramel, raspberry caramel. David didn’t remember ever telling Patrick which truffle flavors were his favorites, but here they were.

“It might not have been him. Maybe the store does it,” David said, but he was already imagining Patrick typing the flavors into a spreadsheet, printing it, and slipping it in the card. He pictured a saved file in Patrick’s Excel folder called _David’s truffles. _

“When_ are_ you going to get back together with Patrick, David?” Alexis said.

“I am_ working _on it,’ he said, “and if the people in this family would leave me alone for two seconds, I might be able to make some progress! Aren’t you supposed to be studying?” he said. 

Alexis gave him a look, but she went back to her textbook.

David turned back to his journal. He needed inspiration for this, so he picked out a truffle, one of the caramels, and took a bite. It was very good. He finished that truffle and picked up another one, milk chocolate. That one was good too, but he thought the caramel was better.

He looked over at Alexis, her head bent low over her book, highlighter in hand. He watched as she methodically began to highlight every line.

He hesitated, then pulled out his phone.

**David:** Alexis has her last final tomorrow  
**David: **Whatever class you were helping her with

**Patrick:** The market research one? 

**David:** idk  
**David:** Probably  
**David:** She’s freaking out about it

**Patrick:** I’ll text her.

*

Alexis arranged to meet with Patrick that night for a study session, and even though it was sort of awful to contemplate Alexis spending time with Patrick when David couldn’t, she definitely seemed happier after it had been arranged. She had her earbuds in and actually seemed to be focused on her textbook. Maybe now he could get something written. He picked up his journal again.

David’s phone pinged.

**Patrick:** your mom is here  
**Patrick: **did you tell her we’d provide free cheese and wine for the town forum?

“Oh, holy Jesus fucking Christ,” David said out loud.

**David:** omg no  
**David:** she asked but I said no  
**David:** I’m so sorry

Patrick didn’t respond right away. David started pacing. What mortifying things was his mother saying to Patrick right now? This was all too much. He was trying to do something_ important,_ the most important thing he’d ever done, and his mother was trying to use this situation to get free stuff. His mother was with Patrick right now, his sister was going to see him later—everyone was spending time with Patrick but him. This whole thing was spiraling out of David’s control. What was his mother saying right now? Why was his family so fucking bonkers? 

Fifteen minutes crawled by. Finally Patrick texted again.

**Patrick:** she said if I helped her it would get me back in your good graces  
**Patrick:** so I gave her all the wine and cheese in the store  
**Patrick:** was that right 

**David:** omg

**Patrick:** its fine  
**Patrick:** I said I had to check with you and she backed off  
**Patrick:** she ended up saying it would be wasted on the people here anyway

David sat back down. He felt drained. He marveled at how calmly Patrick always dealt with things. He knew his mother had probably said all kinds of inappropriate things to him, about Rachel with a_ bébé_ and getting back into David’s _good graces_. Jesus Christ. But Patrick didn’t seem fazed. 

_I gave her all the wine and cheese in the store._ David bit back a smile.

David scrolled back up to reread the chain, and saw his earlier text to Patrick about Alexis and her test. When he had texted Patrick about it, David realized, he had assumed, without even questioning it, that Patrick would help. Even though they were_ taking time_ right now, David had known Patrick would help his sister.

_Start trusting people,_ Patrick had said. David realized he already had started trusting Patrick, at least about some things. And David still trusted him, even now, this week, when they were apart--at least when it came to things like this: helping Alexis, dealing with his mother, and covering for him at the store so he could take some time.

It was a weird, uncomfortable feeling: that he could have emotions he didn’t even know he had, but then when he did realize it, know that he'd been feeling it for awhile.

*

That evening, Alexis went off to her study session with Patrick. David took out his journal once again, looked at THE TALK at the top of the page, and the big blank space underneath it. David was going to do this. He was going to fucking figure this out. 

He wrote, quickly:

-Why didn’t he tell me about R  
-Never felt right/but PROPOSED — contradiction?  
-Other girlfriends?  
-Did P ever know/suspect he was gay when he was w/Rachel  
-my past boyfriends/girlfriends/hookups etc  
-Past sluttiness (explain)

He looked at what he had written. His skin started crawling and butterflies started fluttering in his stomach. He looked at the last two. No, not butterflies: moths. 

His eyes drifted up to what he had written above that: whether Patrick had ever known or suspected he was gay. 

Probably the most they had ever discussed their pasts was when they talked about sex. They’d kind of had to talk about sex things because they were_ doing_ sex things, and a lot of them were things Patrick was doing for the first time, or the first time with a guy. 

That was one thing David had done right, wasn’t it? Sex? He’d really, really wanted Patrick to enjoy it, and enjoy experimenting with different things but not feel pressured about anything, and have space and time to figure out the things he liked. David thought he had really done ok with that; he hadn’t screwed that up. Patrick was so into sex with him, like really fucking into it. God.

David ripped his mind away from how into sex Patrick was. 

Talking about sex wasn’t the same thing as talking about being gay, but they had talked about that too, a little. That is, they hadn’t_ talked_ about it, but sometimes Patrick would say things. Like, happy things. Things like,_ it feels like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders._

_I never knew sex could be like this, the way it is with you._

Patrick had seemed so happy to be gay, to realize that he was, that David hadn’t wanted to question it. From the beginning, Patrick had been so openly affectionate with David, kissing him and touching him in front of other people. He sang a love song to David in front of the whole town. He made jokes like “Don’t ask me, I’m gay,” when David asked him if he thought Jennifer Lawrence looked better with short or long hair—though that might have been because he knew it was a trick question. (The correct answer: both, and everyone should just let her wear her hair the way she wanted.) Could someone joke like that if they were conflicted?

So David had just floated along, assuming everything was fine.

But maybe Patrick wasn’t as okay with being gay as he seemed—David didn’t know, because he hadn’t asked. And David didn’t know if Patrick had known or suspected that he was gay before he came to Schitt’s Creek. Patrick kind of talked like he hadn’t known, but again, David had never asked for details. Honestly, David hadn’t liked thinking about Patrick being lonely and closeted, or lonely and not knowing what was wrong, or any of the other possible scenarios.

But David had been out forever; this was something he could maybe, possibly, imagine talking about—not that it would be_ easy _or anything, but, unlike all the other stuff on this list, he could actually imagine words coming out of his mouth on this topic. He should have been, like, a _steward _for Patrick’s coming out.

But then—Patrick hadn’t asked him for help. Maybe Patrick didn’t see him as a possible steward; maybe he thought the idea of David being a steward for anything was laughable. Maybe he didn’t see David as someone he could talk to about anything really important, and that’s why he didn’t tell him about Rachel either.

David read his list again, all but one of them horrifying, skin-crawlingly impossible things he didn’t want to talk about.

He picked up his pen and added to the bottom of the list:

-did he not talk to me b/c he thinks I can’t handle serious things  
-maybe he’s right  
-I’m proving it right now

He closed his journal. He put his hands over his eyes and pressed into them. Tears were leaking out. He was fucked, wasn't he?

He heard someone turning the doorknob, and he cleared his throat and quickly wiped his eyes. Alexis came breezing in. Luckily she wasn’t paying much attention to him, just chattering about her study session.

“Patrick knows so much about all these nerdy things, and then he explains them all so clearly! He’s like Ted with vet stuff, but all about numbers and markets and things.” Alexis was smiling, running her fingers through her hair. 

David was glad she felt better about her test, but that wasn’t what was really important here. He asked, “Did he say anything about me?”

Alexis considered. “Um, he said to say hi? And he asked if you got the chocolates.”

David was disappointed. He’d hoped for something more. “How did he look? Did he seem—like, what was his mood?”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “He seemed normal,” she said, obviously not even thinking about it. Then she said, “You know, actually, he seemed a little tired.”

"Tired? What do you mean?" 

"I mean tired. Like, worn out."

Tired of dealing with your bullshit, his brain said, Patrick had to run the store by himself all day, and he had to deal with your mom being bonkers, and then he tutored your sister in the evening. No wonder he was tired. How long do you expect Patrick to wait for you to get your shit together? How long before he realizes you aren’t worth all this trouble, that you aren’t the only man in the world?

_Don’t wait too long._

There was just one truffle left in the box. It was milk chocolate. David unwrapped it. His mouth was sticky and he was thirsty, but he popped it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, his mouth full of chocolate. It was hard to swallow it.

David looked at the now-empty box. It was a very nice box; it was cardboard but with a nice heft to it, in a muted sage green with a matte finish and a white cloth ribbon. David picked up the spreadsheet, folded it carefully and tucked it into the box. He got up and put the box on the shelf next to the flowers, which were very pretty even if they lacked subtlety, and the empty wine bottle from dinner last night. He would look for a candle to put in the wine bottle.

It was nice to look at the box and the flowers and the wine bottle, and think about Patrick sending him these nice things and helping Alexis out. It was a distraction from his brain whispering to him: _you’re fucked._


	5. Perfect

The next day Alexis went off to take her final. David stayed in bed all morning but then forced himself to get up and shower. He was not going to go back to spending all day in bed. He went to the cafe and had an omelet. Omelets were healthy, right? It even had vegetables in it.

When he got back to the motel, he went to the office to see Stevie. There were flowers sitting on the end of the front desk. Peach, pale pink, white. Silvery foliage.

He touched one of the white flowers: a lily. “Are these …”

“Yes, they’re for you,” Stevie said.

“Did you_ tell_ him?” David said. He couldn’t help smiling. He leaned in to smell them. Lilies were so fragrant. He was imagining his boyfriend and his best friend talking about him, discussing his tastes, Patrick saying,_ tell me exactly what he likes, Stevie—I want to get him exactly the right thing._ David took out the card that was tucked among the flowers.

Before he could read it, Stevie answered, “No, I haven’t been giving your ex-boyfriend advice on how to win you back.”

David’s head whipped around. “_Ex_-boyfriend? Why? Why would you say that?”

“Well, isn’t he?”

“I haven’t broken up with him! I’m_ taking time!_ We’re not_ broken up_.” David felt a thrill of panic. Now they had put the words _ex-boyfriend_ and_ broken up,_ in connection with Patrick and him, out into the universe. He wanted to cross himself or something; he needed a talisman, or a counterspell, something to ward off evil spirits.

“Does he know that?”

“I don’t break up with people! Patrick knows that.”

“Does he, though?”

He looked down at the card. All it said was,_ I miss you. _

He looked up. He said, desperately, “I don’t _want_ to break up with him! I just don’t know how to get back together.”

Stevie gave him a strange look. “What do you mean, you don’t know how?” 

“I mean I don’t know how to do it right! I don’t know how to fix this!_ I’m_ supposed to be the screwup! I don’t know what to do when he’s the screwup! What if I’m just—incapable? What if I’m only capable of being in a relationship with a perfect guy who never makes mistakes?”

“You think Patrick is perfect?” Stevie said.

David grimaced a little. “Okay, so ‘nobody’s perfect’ or whatever, but he kind of is?”

Stevie scoffed. 

“Name one thing wrong with him,” he said. “Besides this … latest thing.” He waved a hand.

“Well, first of all, he teases you constantly.”

“_You_ do that. You’re saying that’s a flaw now?”

Stevie smirked. “Oh, so you’re saying I’m perfect,” she said.

“Nooooo, I’m not saying that.”

“The guy plans everything. He’s kind of a control freak, David.”

David squirmed. “Okay, but I actually like that.”

“He has like five shirts and two pairs of jeans and they all look the same.”

David considered that. “Okay, there, you have a point. But, counterpoint, he looks _really_ good in them. So.”

Steve was looking at him, her face completely devoid of expression, like she did when she thought he was being really, really stupid. “Can you really not see where I’m going with this?” she asked.

“No?”

“Patrick isn’t perfect, you just_ like_ him.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She said, “You say you want to get back together, and it seems like he wants to get back together”—she gestured to the flowers—“so maybe you should just, you know, get back together.”

Trying to convey how ridiculous this suggestion was, David said with heavy sarcasm, “Oh, you think I should just get back together with him, just like that.”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“What about The Talk?” he said,

“The talk?”

“You know—“ he used air quotes—“‘The Talk.’ Where we talk about what happened, what it means, and—you know, our feelings, or whatever.”

“It might be easier to have ‘The Talk’ if you actually, you know, talk to him.”

That was wrong; you were supposed to figure out what you wanted to say_ before _The Talk. That’s how it worked.

But. What if he just … did it? He saw himself walking into the store, saying_ let’s get back together;_ Patrick’s face lighting up, Patrick taking him into his arms, kissing him, Patrick’s body warm and solid against him. David wanted that. He felt warm and liquid all over, thinking about it.

He repeated, this time without the sarcasm, “So I should go up to him and say I want to get back together.” He looked down at the card in his hand._ I miss you._

He could do it, he thought. He could do it, right now, today.

*

Okay, then. He brought the flowers back to his room and put them on the shelf next to the others. He started looking for the perfect _getting back together_ outfit. This Givenchy leather sweater with the stars around the neck, he looked really good in that. His pants with the over-fabric that everyone called a skirt, his Rick Owens high tops.

He got everything out. He would shower again, restyle his hair, redo his whole moisturizer regimen.

His brain, which had been quiet while he did all this, suddenly woke up.

_You can’t just walk in and say you want to get back together,_ it said.

Yes, I can.

_What about The Talk?_

Fuck The Talk.

_You need a grand gesture, _his brain said.

Oh. Shit.

Yes, he absolutely needed a grand gesture. Had David really been planning on just walking five blocks from the motel to the store, going in, and saying “I want to get back together”?

Worst ending to a rom com ever.

But he could do this. He thought about what he had told Patrick about Rachel:_ It’s like she didn’t even try. _No one was going to be able to say that about him.

His phone pinged.

**Patrick:** I hope Alexis’s final goes well  
**Patrick:** She said you liked the chocolates  
**Patrick:** Hope you like the flowers too

David didn’t respond. He was going to see Patrick and dazzle him with his grand gesture today; texting him first would just detract from the impact.

He could do this. He knew grand gestures. He didn’t have The Talk figured out, but this he could do.

When it came to grand gestures in romantic comedies, David thought, there were certain themes. Music was a big one—singing, dance contests, karaoke—but David rejected the idea instantly. He couldn’t sing or dance, not at the level that was required. _Especially_ not after Patrick had sung to him so beautifully. If David tried to do anything with music, he would just embarrass himself.

Racing against the clock to catch a plane, or train, or bus, or boat, or whatever—that was very common. Bonus points for getting stuck in traffic and jumping out of your car to run the rest of the way. David loved rom coms, but even he had to admit this trope was overused. Patrick wasn’t planning to take any trips anyway, and traffic in Schitt’s Creek was nonexistent. Also, David didn’t do running.

Then there was using some event, especially a public event, to declare your feelings in a grand, spectacular way. This could be anything: someone else’s wedding, a soccer practice, a beauty pageant. Then you either had to sing, or propose, or make a touching and articulate declaration.

So were there any big events happening that he could hijack? Well, basically nothing ever happened here, so no. Plus, when he thought about it, doing anything in public was … not going to happen. What—he was going to stand in front of _Roland_ to say something touching and articulate? Absolutely not.

Could he throw Patrick a party? Patrick had said once he’d always wanted a surprise party, poor thing. But that would require planning; David wasn’t going to throw something together at the last minute. What else did Patrick like? Guitar, baseball, hiking, boring business stuff. Blow jobs. Could a blow job count as a grand gesture? 

Probably not. 

But, maybe, after the main grand gesture, David could give Patrick a really good blow job as, like, a followup grand gesture: they could go in the back room; David could unbutton Patrick’s shirt and run his hands over his shoulders and his chest and touch his perfect pink nipples until they were hard and pebbly, and then open up Patrick’s jeans and wrap his hand around his cock and stroke him until Patrick was breathing harder and kind of clinging onto David like he was actually weak at the knees from David touching him; and then David would kneel down in front of him, and get his mouth around his cock, using his mouth and lips and tongue in all the ways he knew Patrick liked; and then he would do that thing where just when Patrick was starting to get close, he’d slow down a little, pull back a little, until Patrick wrapped his hands in David’s hair and kind of _took over_—

Damn. Damn. He was getting distracted.

Time ticked by. It was 5:00, right when Patrick was closing up the store. It was the perfect time to go over, if he could think of something to do. 

You’re never going to figure this out, his brain jeered. At this rate you’re never going to get to suck Patrick’s cock again.

He knew that focusing so much on the grand gesture was maybe not the mature, adult thing to do. But he’d tried to figure out the adult thing to do yesterday, and it hadn’t worked. He just wanted to do _something_. A grand gesture would show that David was at least trying to hold up his end of the relationship, and that he was a little bit worthy of all this trouble, and of Patrick. And that was worth doing, wasn’t it?

But he was still sitting here, his mind blank, time ticking by.

It was 6:00. Patrick had gone home. He was having dinner with Ray. Chatty Ray. 

It was too late. David wasn’t going to see Patrick today.

*

Alexis wanted to celebrate taking her last final, so she convinced David and their parents to go to a family dinner in Elmdale. David welcomed the distraction, honestly. They drank bad wine and his dad kept singing, for some reason, and his mother kept laughing at him. 

Once again David pondered the mystery of his parents’ relationship. His mother was dramatic and over the top and unreasonable, and his father was awkward and always said the wrong thing. David couldn’t imagine them having a real talk about anything. But clearly it worked for them and it had for forty years. Unreal. 

He was their son, you’d think he might have absorbed some understanding of how to have a successful relationship.

After dinner, David ordered tiramisu. It was very good. Not like he'd had in Italy, of course, but David was prepared to be accommodating when it came to baked goods. Especially things he couldn't get in Schitt's Creek. 

Alexis was checking her phone. “Look!” she said. “They just posted the final test scores. I did it, I passed!” She held up her phone for them to see. 

“Oh, Alexis!” his mother said. “How about that?” his dad said. They all clinked glasses, drank more bad wine. Alexis was smiling.

“Congratulations, Alexis,” David said, sincerely.

But he couldn’t help feeling a pang. He wished Patrick were here. Patrick had helped her; he should be here, celebrating with them.

He said to Alexis, when his parents were talking to each other, “You should text Patrick, tell him you passed.” 

Alexis said, “Okay, but why don’t _you_ text him?”

David shook his head. He couldn’t even get into it right now. Alexis looked like she was going to press him about it, but then she just touched his hand. She picked up her phone. 

She turned it around to show David Patrick’s reply. It said “Congratulations!” with a bunch of fireworks emojis. 

It made David remember again how he had known Patrick would help Alexis; how he had realized that he already trusted Patrick, a little bit; and that actually he had for awhile. 

He hadn't thought of it yesterday, but that was actually the kind of insight about feelings he was supposed to be having, wasn't it? 

Good job, his brain said. It took you five days, but you managed to have a tiny shred of a realization. Try going to Patrick with that: _Oh, hey, I think I trust you a little. Let’s make out._

Second worst ending to a rom com ever.

*

The next day David woke up to more texts:

**Patrick:** good morning  
**Patrick:** I hope you have a good day  
**Patrick:** thinking of you

Then came roses, a dozen red roses, just like in the movies. The card said _David + Roses. _

How fucking smooth was that?

Then another package: a bracelet, a bracelet that matched exactly a necklace David sometimes wore. He thought of Patrick noticing the necklace, making a mental note, combing jewelry stores to find a bracelet that matched.

Stevie was wrong; Patrick was perfect.

David put on the bracelet. He put the roses on the shelf next to the other flowers. He put the box that the bracelet came in next to the chocolate box. His shelf was really crowded now. 

God, it was beautiful.

He thought about the fact that before this week, he had never been sent flowers even once, and now he had_ three _bouquets, plus chocolates, _plus _a bracelet. Take that, Sebastien Raine and all you other motherfuckers.

Patrick actually wanted him. He really, really did. The evidence was right in front of him. 

Never in his whole life had anyone wanted him enough to go to this much trouble. He had always had to beg for attention; he had had to pay for it with humiliation; he had let people do whatever they wanted to him just to keep them around. And now he had this perfect guy sending him perfect presents, day after day, when David wasn’t doing a fucking thing to deserve it. It was overwhelming. It was intoxicating.

It was also paralyzing. How could he possibly respond? How could he possibly even the scales? He didn’t know how to have The Talk. He couldn’t think of a grand gesture. Was he just going to walk in and offer _himself?_

Whatever he did, he was sure to screw it up. If he didn’t do anything, he couldn’t make a mistake. 

Patrick wanted him; he liked him, he liked him so much that he was wooing him, wooing him with this escalating series of increasingly thoughtful gifts. It was a beautiful, perfect thought. He would just stay here, in this perfect space, with that perfect thought.

_Alone,_ his brain whispered.


	6. Olive Branch

It was morning. David was staring at his gifts again.

They _were_ beautiful. He had three bouquets of flowers and a bracelet and a chocolate box and an empty wine bottle with a candle in it. But—he didn’t have Patrick. He couldn’t talk to Patrick, or touch him, or kiss him, or have sex with him, or run the store with him, or get teased by him, or do anything with him.

He had to stop fucking around. 

Right now, today, he had two choices: he could get back together with Patrick and just wing it on the whole “The Talk” thing, or he could be by himself. 

And go back to hooking up with Sebastiens.

Or get on Bumpkin, and search for another Patrick. 

There was no one like Patrick. 

The choice was no choice, really.

So, that’s what he was going to do: go with the worst ending to a rom com ever. He was going to walk in and say he was ready to get back together. He was going to do it without a grand gesture, without knowing what he was going to say in The Talk. He was just going to offer himself. 

It was crazy, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

He dressed carefully, in the outfit he had picked out two days ago. He clipped on the bracelet. This was his_ getting back together _outfit. He was getting back together with Patrick today.

He was going to do it.

*

When David walked into the store, Patrick turned, and at the sight of his face, his big brown eyes, his familiar blue shirt tucked into his familiar Levi’s, David’s whole body was suffused with warmth and tenderness. Why, this was _Patrick._ What had he been so worried about? This was going to be easy.

*

It wasn’t easy. 

Patrick had interrupted David’s _let’s get back together_ speech before he could even get the words out; he had interrupted him to_ apologize,_ not for keeping the secret about Rachel, which would at least make sense, but for sending him texts and gifts, which made absolutely zero sense; since the texts and the gifts were the only two things, other than Stevie, that had kept David sane this last week. 

Patrick had said he was _desperate_ and_ embarrassed_ and apologized for _smothering_ David—which he should know was literally impossible to do.

What had Patrick’s week been like? 

Now it was almost lunchtime and they were putting labels on creams, not talking. David knew he had to say something, but he couldn’t think of what to say. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, that he wasn’t capable of telling Patrick how he felt and talking things over in a mature way. But he had thought that would happen later, when they tried to hash out what happened with Rachel and talk about their pasts. He didn’t think he would get stuck before he even got to _I want to get back together. _

David looked at Patrick. Patrick was grimly applying labels, and he wasn’t saying anything because he thought David wanted space, but David didn’t want space, he wanted to get back together, and David was going to make this happen if it killed him.

Their fingers touched the same bottle of cream, and that finally broke the silence. Patrick snatched his hand away and tried to get David to leave, to go to lunch, but David wasn’t going to leave, dammit, he was going to make Patrick understand that he didn’t want_ space_ and he didn’t want to _focus on the business._ But whatever he said, Patrick kept not getting it, and finally David blurted out: “I was ready to get back together _days_ ago.” 

“What? Then why didn’t we?” Patrick was surprised—really surprised, David saw. Had Patrick really thought they might be broken up, like forever?

David said, “I’ve never been in this situation before! Where someone’s been so nice to me. And generous.” Oh, shit. Why had he led with that? 

Patrick said, sounding incredulous, “I’m sorry, were you holding back on talking me because you were getting_ gifts_?” It actually sounded kind of bad, put that way. Patrick was looking at him in incredulous disbelief, and no wonder. How had David managed to fuck this up already? 

But. But. There was something bubbling up underneath Patrick's look. Even as David tried to explain, and kept saying more wrong things, things that made him sound even more greedy and selfish; and Patrick got more and more appalled and incredulous, that something underneath kept bubbling up. David saw it, he recognized it.

Patrick couldn’t hide it; he was_ happy._

*

_Stay here and think about what you’ve done,_ Patrick had said, holding David’s face between his hands, before going off to get his lunch. It wasn’t fair. Patrick had done that because he knew it would turn David on, and after a week of no sex and hardly any masturbation and emotionally flailing all over the place, David wanted sex. 

_I think I deserve an olive branch or two,_ Patrick had said. And he did. David was trying to think of one. Could a blow job be an olive branch? No. God, why did his mind always go there?

Trying to think of an olive branch felt a lot like trying to think of a grand gesture, which had sent him into a spiral just two days ago. He started to panic. 

Patrick came back. He brought David lunch after all. He brought him coffee, his caramel macchiato just the way he liked it. David sipped it, remembering the terrible motel coffee he had drunk this week. How was it so easy for Patrick to do things for him? 

They were really busy with customers that afternoon. 

When David was on the floor and Patrick was at the register, he heard Patrick say, “Oh, you’re going camping? My business partner is an expert on camping. He goes all the time. You should talk to him about that.”

David looked over, and Patrick wasn’t looking at him, he was deliberately not looking at him, but he was smiling, his special Patrick smile with his lips tucked down at the corners.

They were going to get back together. They were already back together. Even though Patrick thought David had let him suffer for a week just for the fun of getting a lot of gifts, they were back together. David felt giddy, thinking about it.

But here was the thing. 

David didn’t _want_ Patrick to think he had let him suffer just for fun. He kept imagining Patrick this past week, sending David all those things not to reassure him and help him out, which is what it had felt like, but out of _desperation._ He’d done it even though he thought it was the wrong thing to do.

David hadn’t realized. That was stupid, maybe, but he really hadn’t known. Patrick was always so steady and calm. The idea of him being desperate, desperate because of_ David,_ was a totally new idea.

David had loved the gifts—he admitted that. Maybe he had gloated over them, a little. But the gifts hadn’t been special just because they were gifts but because they came from Patrick. He wanted Patrick to know that he appreciated all the things Patrick did for him: so many things, giving him monthly anniversary presents and bringing him lunch and coffee and helping his sister and looking after the store. But he also wanted Patrick to know he appreciated the way Patrick was a nerd about spreadsheets and he played baseball and teased David mercilessly and all the things about Patrick. It was everything. 

David thought of the olive branch, the grand gesture, again. Maybe he’d been thinking of it the wrong way. The grand gesture wasn’t to make David look good, it was to make Patrick feel good. It was to say_ I’m doing this big thing because I care about you._ So David was going to do something, but really it could be anything. So what would it be? Patrick wasn’t going on a trip; there was no public occasion to hijack. What was left?

Music, and embarrassing himself. Okay. 

*

It worked. David threw himself into his lip synch of “The Best,” and before he was even through the first line Patrick was looking at him with his brown eyes shining, his lips tucked into that special smile that he only had for David. It was easy to embarrass yourself when someone looked at you like that. 

When the song ended David was kneeling on the floor in front of him and they were both laughing; and David put his hands on Patrick’s thighs and leaned in to kiss him, and Patrick leaned forward to kiss him back and kept moving forward in order to get closer until they both tumbled awkwardly onto the floor, and then they were making out on the floor of Rose Apothecary where anyone could see them.

It had been a long week and feeling Patrick’s body on his, his mouth on his, felt so good; it felt unbelievably good; how had David survived a week without this?

Patrick kept kissing him with hungry, devouring kisses, first on the mouth and then moving down David’s neck, and then he was yanking on the leather sweater to try to kiss as far down as possible, but since it was leather it wasn’t very yankable. David was running his hands all over Patrick’s back and shoulders, scrabbling at the fabric of his shirt, pulling the shirt out of his jeans and getting his hands under it, so he could feel the soft, smooth skin of his back.

Patrick was lying half on top of him, and he moved so he was fully on top of him, so his hips were on David’s hips and David could feel the hard length of Patrick’s cock under his jeans, and David was hard too; and Patrick ground down against him, and now they weren’t just making out, they were dry humping on the floor of Rose Apothecary, in front of these huge windows with people walking by.

“Patrick, we can’t,” David said, between kisses, even as he was pressing his hips upward in time to Patrick’s hard thrust downward. “We can’t … the windows. There’s people …”

Patrick said, breathlessly, “I know, I know.” He lifted himself up and away. “Let’s go in the back,” he said, tugging at David and pulling him up.

David let Patrick lead him into the stockroom, where Patrick started kissing him again. But David made a decision; he hadn’t been thinking about blow jobs all week to forget about them now. He pulled away. “Wait here,” he said.

He went back and grabbed the chair Patrick had just been sitting in, brought it into the stockroom.

David pulled the curtain closed behind him and motioned for Patrick to sit down in the chair. “What’s this?” Patrick said, but he probably already had some idea; he was biting back a smile as he sat down.

David knelt and put his hands on Patrick’s thighs. “Consider this my second olive branch,” he said, and reached for Patrick’s belt buckle. 

He got Patrick’s belt and jeans undone and then reached in his boxers and wrapped his fingers around his cock. Patrick hissed out a breath in response, and David pulled the boxers and jeans down a little so he could have better access. He took his hand away and paused for moment, just admiring. He wasn’t ashamed to say he loved his boyfriend’s cock. It was thick and slightly curved, fully hard now, moist at the tip. _Mine,_ David thought, and brought his mouth down around it. 

“Jesus, David,” Patrick said, as David began to move his mouth and tongue and his hand. 

David started slow, getting Patrick’s cock slick and wet and moving his hand at the base. Then he started swirling his tongue around and underneath Patrick’s cock in the way he knew Patrick liked best, occasionally swiping the tip of his tongue across the tip and making Patrick gasp a little.

Patrick had his hands on the sides of the chair and was clutching it, like he wanted to let David be in control of what he was doing. But then, like he couldn’t help himself, he brought them to caress David’s face and then moved into David’s hair and tangled in it. Patrick started saying David’s name and making the little noises David loved, and David increased the pressure and speed of his mouth and tongue on Patrick’s cock.

When David sensed Patrick was getting close, he deliberately slackened the pace and started giving Patrick these feather-light strokes instead of the hard swirls he was doing before. And Patrick reacted just like he wanted; his hands clutched in David’s hair and pulled him down, and David gave himself up and let Patrick take over, just opening his mouth and letting Patrick take what he needed. He loved that feeling, of Patrick’s hands holding him hard while his hard cock moved in his mouth.

“David, I’m going to—“ Patrick gasped, and he let go of David’s hair; Patrick always tried to be polite and let David have the option not to get come in his mouth, but today David wanted it, he kept his mouth on him and brought Patrick’s hands back to his head, and Patrick took the hint and grabbed him and brought his head down hard, and the hot come spurted into David’s mouth and throat and it was just what David wanted._ Mine._

David let Patrick’s cock slide out of his mouth and leaned his head on Patrick’s thigh. Patrick was slowly stroking David’s face and running his fingers through his hair. “David, oh my God, David,” he said. He almost sounded choked up; was he_ crying?_

David looked up to see, but then Patrick was pulling him up, pulling him in to sit in his lap. “You’re amazing,” he said. He was smiling now; David thought his eyes might be wet but he couldn't tell. Patrick put his hand behind David’s head and brought him in for a kiss. 

David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck and kissed him back. He was feeling very pleased with himself; he’d done two olive branches and they’d both gone over very well. He wanted to savor that, but then Patrick was pulling at the hem of David’s sweater and the over-fabric of his pants, searching for a way underneath them. Finally Patrick found his way in and slipped his hand inside and closed his fingers around David’s cock, stroking him and murmuring against his lips, “I want to do you now.” 

“Hold on, hold on,” David said, gasping. It killed him but he pulled Patrick’s hand out of his pants. “I want a bed. I want to be in a bed.”

Patrick kissed him some more. “Okay,” he said. He brought his hand back to David’s cock but over the fabric; he just squeezed it once gently, as though in promise. “We could go to my place, try to dodge Ray.”

David thought about it. It was the best option.

As they were leaving, though, and Patrick was locking the door, David spotted his parents and sister heading into the cafe. He grabbed Patrick’s arm and pointed them out. “Let’s go to the motel,” he said, and started off in that direction.

“David, are you running?” Patrick said, catching up to him and catching his arm to stop him. He was laughing. “Let’s take my car. It’s faster.”

“Okay, good point,” David said, too happy to mind being laughed at. 

*

When they got to David’s room, David closed and locked the door while Patrick stood behind him, his arms around him, nuzzling the back of his neck. Then David turned around and Patrick kissed him while maneuvering him into the room, toward the bed. They fell back on the bed together and Patrick climbed on top of him. He kissed him while he got his hands on the bottom hem of David’s sweater, trying to pull it up, but the leather made it stiff and hard to move and it kept just bunching up between their bodies. Finally Patrick pulled away.

“Dammit, how do you get this off?” he said, tugging at it.

David sat up and batted his hands away. Patrick was not being careful at all. “This is Givenchy,” he said. “I wore it to look good for you.”

Patrick sat back and watched as David pulled it carefully over his head. When it was off Patrick leaned in and kissed him, touching his now-bare chest and shoulders

“What about these high tops?” Patrick said against his mouth. “Did you wear those to look good for me too?”

“Of course,” David said. They were Rick Owens.

“Take them off,” Patrick said, and sat back again to watch as David leaned down to untie and loosen the laces enough to pull the shoes off. 

It felt like it took forever. Okay, maybe a_ getting back together_ outfit should be a little easier to slip in and out of.

When he was done he looked at Patrick, who was looking at him with a little smile, his eyes warm. Patrick hooked his finger in the top of David’s pants. “How about these?” he said. “Did you wear these for me too?”

“Yes,” David whispered.

“Take them off,” Patrick said, his voice husky.

David brought his hands to his waistband and paused. Patrick was still fully dressed. “What about you?”

Patrick said, “Oh, I definitely wore this outfit for you.”

David smiled. “Well, take it off, then,” he said.

David took everything off and tried not to think too much about his own nakedness and just focused on Patrick’s, watching that beautiful body emerge as Patrick took off his shirt and his jeans and his boxers; that flat hard chest and muscular legs and all that pale, smooth skin.

When they were both naked, Patrick got a towel from the bathroom to spread out on David’s bed. “We don’t want to ruin your nice sheets,” he said teasingly. David lay back on the towel, feeling a little self-conscious.

Patrick sat down on edge of the bed next to him, and he was looking at him like he was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. “David,” he whispered. 

He got on the bed and David turned on his side so they were facing each other, and Patrick just kissed him for awhile; long, heated kisses, his tongue sweeping in David’s mouth while his hands ran up and down all over David’s body. It was so nice, feeling Patrick naked against him. David stroked a hand down Patrick’s arm and then onto his hip. He ran his hand over Patrick’s ass, squeezing it. God, he had missed this so much.

Then Patrick pushed David on his back and got on top of him, straddling him with his knees on either side of David’s thighs. He ran his hands through the hair on David’s chest, down his stomach, then just skimmed up and down over his cock, which made David jump a little, then back up again, up to David’s shoulders and down his arms. Patrick’s fingers touched the bracelet he had given him, and he sat back and brought both David’s hands up, looking at them.

Patrick touched the bracelet. “This looks so good on you,” he said softly. “When I bought it, I thought about you wearing it like this. Wearing nothing but this and your rings.” Patrick looked down at David’s hands, at the rings and the bracelet, and then his eyes swept over David’s naked body, and when he looked up and met David’s eyes his gaze was so heated David felt a jolt that went right to his cock.

Patrick leaned down and kissed him lingeringly, then trailed kisses down David's neck and onto his chest. He stopped at David’s nipple and took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and biting it gently, sending zings of pleasure coursing through him. Then he kissed down David’s chest and stomach and stopped at David’s cock. David arched up to him, asking for his touch, and Patrick did, wrapping his fingers around it and then putting his mouth on it, tonguing the top just briefly. David bucked in response, and Patrick did it again.

Patrick took his mouth off and looked up at David. “Not to be unromantic,” he said softly, “but I know we don’t have much time. You said you wanted to be in a bed. Was there something specific you had in mind?” 

David tried to bring his scattered thoughts together. “I just—” he whispered. “I just wanted to be naked with you, and feel you, your whole body against me.”

“We can do that,” Patrick said. He came back up and gently pushed David so he was on his side. He opened the nightstand drawer, took out the lube and then lay down behind David, spooning him. He got some lube in his hand and reached around to start slowly stroking David’s cock. “How’s that?” he whispered.

“Yes,” David said. He closed his eyes and pressed backward into Patrick, loving the feel of skin on skin, the feel of Patrick’s hand pulling on his cock. Then he felt … he reached behind him to touch Patrick’s cock, which was partially hard and poking into him. “Didn’t I—“ he said, “Didn’t I give you a blow job, like ten seconds ago?”

David felt Patrick dip his head into his shoulder and give a little huff of laughter. “I missed you a lot,” he said.

Knowing Patrick was hard again for him already was doing things to David. He almost felt like he was going to come, right then, just thinking about it. Patrick picked up the pace of his stroking, at the same time pressing his cock against him from behind. It was more than David could bear; he wanted more. “I want—can you—“ David said. “Can you put it—inside me?”

“Put what inside you?” Patrick said, slowing down the stroking on David’s cock, rubbing against him from behind. Patrick was fully hard again, David could feel it. He made a sound.

“What was that?” Patrick said. “Did you say something?”

He took his hand off David’s cock, and David made another sound, an agonized sound of protest. 

“Did you want something, David?” Patrick said, still not touching David’s cock, using his hand to push his own cock right up against where David wanted it, circling.

Oh, God. “I want you,” David gasped out, “To put your cock. In my ass.”

David could feel Patrick smiling. “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” he said, but he sounded a little breathless. He pushed up on David’s thigh, bending his knee so he could get better access to his ass. He whispered, “Lift up for me, sweetheart,” and David lifted his hips; he felt one finger, covered with lube, sliding inside him, then another finger, moving around, gliding in and out. It felt so good, but then the fingers were gone and he made another sound of loss, even though he knew what was coming; and then he felt Patrick’s cock pushing against him, sliding inside.

Patrick was being agonizingly slow, taking his time. He moved experimentally, back and forth, changing the angle slightly each time, and when David gasped and bucked a little Patrick stayed there, pressing gently but insistently on that spot. Then Patrick started moving slowly against that spot, just rocking back and forth.

David closed his eyes. He was going to die. He gave himself up to the feeling of it, Patrick’s body pressed against his back, Patrick’s cock inside him, pressed against that magic spot, Patrick moving back and forth with a maddeningly slow rocking motion.

All the confusion and pain and longing of the last week felt like it was swirling and concentrating into this intense, incredible feeling; it felt like it went on forever; it crested higher and higher; he thought he couldn’t feel this intensely and not come, but it kept spiraling, escalating; he could hear he was making incoherent sounds, sounds of need and want; and then he felt Patrick wrap his hand around his cock and give him just what he wanted, just what he needed; one, two, three firm strokes, and David was coming into Patrick’s hand and on the towel and then he felt Patrick suddenly move fast and hard within him and heard him give a hoarse cry and he knew Patrick was coming too. 

David slowly came back to himself. Patrick was murmuring, “Oh my God, David, you’re so beautiful, David, David…” and caressing his arms and shoulders and kissing the back of his neck. Then Patrick was trying to turn David towards him, kissing his cheek and trying to get to his mouth. David let himself be turned and kissed Patrick back, lazily, just opening his mouth and letting Patrick in. He felt totally drained and totally at peace. He was exhausted, he was exhilarated.

He was also covered in come. He was lying in his own come on the towel and he had Patrick’s come leaking out of his ass, he could feel it. “I’m a mess,” he said, between kisses.

Patrick laughed a little and pulled back. “Yes, you are. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*

David came out of the bathroom wearing fresh sweatpants and a t-shirt. He saw Patrick standing shirtless in his jeans, looking at the shelf full of gifts. 

Patrick touched one of the roses. “I really went overboard, didn’t I?” he said.

“You didn’t,” David said. He tried to think of what to say, how to explain. He thought about how Patrick still thought David had spent the week happily gloating over these gifts.

Patrick trailed his finger over the other flowers and the chocolate box and the box the bracelet came in. He touched the wine bottle with its candle, and the card that had come with it.

“I can’t believe you even kept the wine bottle,” he said.

David said in a low voice, “It helped me. All these—“ he gestured to the gifts, “they helped me.” He took a breath, forced himself to go on. “It helped me know that you weren’t giving up on me, that you were still—interested.”

“Interested? Jesus, David,” Patrick said. “I was going crazy.” 

“I didn’t know,” David said. “No one’s ever wanted me that much before, enough to be—upset about it.” _No one’s ever wanted me at all._

Patrick turned back to him. His face was troubled. David wasn’t sure what he was thinking. “Can I hold you?” Patrick asked. 

David walked over and wrapped his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, and Patrick slid his hands around David’s waist and pulled him in tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rachel,” Patrick whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

David opened his mouth to say_ it’s ok, it’s forgotten, don’t worry about it,_ something that would end the conversation, something that would head off the possibility of The Talk, so they could go back to the way things were. But he didn’t. 

He croaked it out: “I guess—we should—talk about it.” Then he buried his face in Patrick’s neck.


	7. Talk

David lifted his head from where it was buried in Patrick’s neck. He ran his hands down Patrick’s bare shoulders. He cleared his throat. “You know,” he said. “We’re officially past the fade-out now.”

“The fade-out?” Patrick slid his hands up David’s back and kissed him.

David kissed him back. Then he said, “Yes, in the movie about our relationship. It would have ended after we made up at the store. The end credits would roll after I kissed you.”

“Not after the sex?”

“This is a romantic comedy, not porn,” said David, scandalized.

“Mmm, too bad,” Patrick said. 

He looked so hot that David had to kiss him again.

Suddenly the connecting door opened. They broke apart. Alexis was saying, “I have to start my own business because who would I work for—” She broke off when she saw them.

“Well, hello, David. Hello, Patrick,” she said. She was smiling, a little knowing smile. David glared at her.

David heard both of his parents’ voices, saying “Oh, is Patrick here?” and then they were all in the room. Alexis was smirking, his mother was smiling broadly. Only his dad had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Get out, please, all of you.” David said, making shooing motions with his hands.

“Mrs. Rose, Mr. Rose, Alexis,” Patrick said. He looked fairly calm and only a little bit embarrassed, even though he was standing there in only his jeans and it was pretty obvious when they’d just been doing.

His dad said,“Well, it’s nice that you boys have worked things out.” He started ushering his wife and daughter out of the room, saying, “We should let them get back to what they were doing.” He turned to David. “Not that you were doing anything! I didn’t mean—I just meant we should give you some privacy for—not _for_ anything, just privacy, in general.”

“Oh my God,” David said.

His mother, still smiling, let herself be drawn into the next room, but then she turned and called back, “Patrick, we haven’t seen enough of you lately; it’s so nice to see so _much_ of you!” She blew him a kiss.

David was mortified. Patrick said, “Uh, thank you, Mrs. Rose."

Alexis put her hand on the doorknob and poked her head back in. She said, “Seriously, though? You guys aren’t going to go for round two, are you? I need to use my home office, and it’s kind of important."

“Get out _now_!” David snapped, and she went, closing the door behind her.

Patrick was laughing. “Oh my God,” David said again. He picked up Patrick’s shirt and shoved it at him.

After they got dressed, Patrick suggested going to dinner in Elmdale, but David didn’t want to waste a nice Elmdale dinner on The Talk. He said, “Let’s just go to the cafe.” The cafe seemed safer, more casual.

Patrick seemed disappointed. “Maybe we can get dessert in Elmdale after?”

David saw that Patrick wanted to take him somewhere special to celebrate getting back together. That, plus the idea of dessert, gave him a warm feeling.

“Okay,” he said happily. Talk first, dessert after. 

*

When they sat down at the cafe, Twyla brought them their menus. She said, “Oh, are you two back together? That’s so great!”

David groaned and put his hands up to his face. Why had he suggested the cafe? Patrick smiled and said, “Thank you, Twyla.”

“You know, the same thing happened with one of my stepdads. His ex-wife just showed up at our house one day.” 

Patrick’s smile faded. David was horrified. Did _everyone_ in this town know _exactly_ what happened?

Twyla said, “It was fine, though! She ended up living with us for two years. She taught me to roller skate. Let me know when you’re ready to order!”

Twyla gave them a cheery smile and walked away.

Patrick was looking at David with a worried expression. He said, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to Elmdale?”

“Why? Now I know all I had to do is ask Rachel to teach me to roller skate.”

Patrick smiled, but just a little, like he didn’t really think this was funny but he appreciated David’s sarcasm.

David opened up his menu but then closed it again. He knew everything on it. “Um, I should tell you that I’ve been dreading this.”

“Dreading what?”

“Talking.” 

Twyla came back and they ordered. Patrick ordered a club sandwich; David ordered spaghetti and meatballs. He was hungry and he deserved carbs.

After she left, Patrick said, “How about this? You ask me things, I’ll answer, and if it gets to be too much you just say stop.”

“Okay,” David said. “Can I—come sit over there?”

Patrick scooted over and David slid in next to him. This was easier. He didn’t have to make eye contact, and he could put his hand on Patrick’s thigh, which he did. Patrick put his hand over his.

David paused, but he knew what his first question was. He asked it all in a mumble. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

Patrick stroked David’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know I should have. I’m not always good at …”

“Not good at what?” David said, when Patrick didn’t go on.

“At dealing with things that aren’t right in front of me. I didn’t want to think about her. I wanted to think about you.” Patrick kept stroking David’s hand, playing with his rings, looking down.

He continued, “Also, I was worried it might scare you off.”

_I didn’t want it to affect what we have._ It didn’t make sense then, and David still didn’t understand. “But I don’t break up with people,” David said.

Patrick didn’t say anything for a minute. David glanced over at him, and he actually looked a little upset. David didn't understand why; David was just stating a fact. “I know,” Patrick said finally. “You’ve—you’ve said that. But I thought we were different from … other people you’ve dated. I wanted us to be different.”

“Different by, me breaking up with you?” David said, bewildered.

“No, I mean—I want you to think about what _you_ want. I don’t want you to stay with me if it’s not what you want. That’s why I think—I probably shouldn’t have sent you those gifts this week, all those texts. I want you to make your own decision.”

“I _did_ make my own decision!” David said. He was getting really annoyed. He couldn’t see what Patrick was getting at.

“That’s good, then,” Patrick said, smiling, confusing David even more. Patrick brought David’s hand up and kissed it.

Twyla brought their food. David decided to leave this confusing subject and return to what Patrick had said before.

“How did you think it would scare me off?”

Patrick picked up his sandwich. “Okay, so keep in mind that I wasn’t thinking this all the way through. I was mostly just avoiding the subject. But I guess I thought if you knew I’d just been engaged, to a woman, so recently, you might think I wasn’t serious about you, that I was just rebounding or, or—experimenting, or something.”

David thought of how Patrick had asked him on a date, given him a nice present, and thanked him after David kissed him. David had had people _experiment_ on him before, and that’s not what they did. He said, “I wouldn’t have thought that.”

“Thank you, David,” Patrick said gravely. “I should have trusted you. I just thought, I’m somebody who’s thirty and never been with a guy before, and I just broke off an engagement with a woman—well, some people would say it’s a red flag.”

Did he mean people would look at _Patrick_ and see a red flag? Anyone looking at the two of them would see David and see red flags. _Damaged goods._ David felt a lump rise in his throat. He said, choking it out, “I’m the one with the red flags. I’m _made_ of red flags.”

“Huh,” Patrick said. Then he shook his head. “I don’t see it.”

Was Patrick teasing him? He couldn't be serious. David thought of the many, many reasons someone would avoid getting involved with him. Needy. High maintenance. Selfish. Moody. A whore. He said, “I’m someone who’s thirty and never managed to have a relationship longer than three months. _That’s_ a red flag.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Thirty?” was all he said.

“Basically thirty,” David said.

“Uh huh. Maybe someone who lies about his age is a red flag.”

“Well, just add it to the pile,” David snapped.

Patrick took a bite of his sandwich, calm as could be. “Maybe I like red flags,” he said. “You wave a red flag at me, I’m like a bull, I go right after it.”

David looked at him. Patrick was smiling. David twisted his mouth to the side to avoid smiling back.

He moved his hand up Patrick’s thigh. “A bull, huh?” he said, and Patrick laughed.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Patrick put down his sandwich and said, with a new note in his voice, “I also want to say I’m sorry for—” he broke off.

“For what?” David said. Patrick sounded so serious.

“I really want you to trust me, and I know I screwed that up, and—and I want to thank you for giving me another chance. I really—” He broke off again, and his hand found David’s, and he squeezed.

“Um,” David said. He thought of his tiny shred of a realization this week. He cleared his throat. He said, “I realized this week. I do. Trust you. A little.”

Patrick squeezed his hand more tightly, and David continued: “I realized it when I asked you to help Alexis. I knew you would. And I guess I trust you—in other ways.”

“Thank you,” was all Patrick said, but there was something in his voice that said this was more to Patrick than just a tiny shred of a realization. David felt choked up. He couldn’t look at Patrick; it was almost too much. 

Patrick let go of his hand and picked up his sandwich again, saying, “Maybe in a few months you’ll trust me with something really important, like your laundry.”

“Absolutely not,” David said, immediately horrified. He didn’t know anything about laundry, but he was sure whatever Patrick did with his own clothes did not involve dry cleaning.

“Really? It would be easy, because all your clothes are black. I could just toss them all in the washer together with a Tide pod. I’d even use fabric softener.”

“I don’t know what any of those words mean,” David said coldly.

Patrick just smiled like the little troll he was, and took a bite of his sandwich. David speared a meatball. He leaned in to Patrick so his thigh was against his and their shoulders were touching. Maybe this Talk thing wasn’t so bad.

While he was still feeling bold, he said, “Tell me about Rachel.”

“What do you want to know?”

_Why did you propose_, he thought, but that thought still hurt. Patrick would do it right; he would be very romantic, and David didn’t want to picture that. “How did you meet?”

“We knew each other from choir, and we were friends. She said we should both try out for the school musical, and we both got parts. That’s when we started dating.”

“What was the musical?”

“Grease.”

“Were you Danny and she was Sandy?” David asked, and Patrick nodded. 

Patrick would make a great Danny, David thought. He could picture him in jeans and a tight white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He would look so good. And he and Rachel singing “Summer Nights” … it was too much. This was one image his brain hadn’t tortured him with, but it did now: Patrick and Rachel singing duets from '50's musicals.

“Stop,” David said.

Patrick tried to take his hand, but David yanked it away. He could feel Patrick looking at him.

“How about we go get dessert now?” Patrick said. “The Elmdale Bistro has that chocolate mousse cake that you like.”

David didn’t say anything. Patrick was acting like he was a child, thinking he could bribe him with cake. On the other hand, chocolate mousse cake was delicious.

“I’ll pay for dinner since you already gave me two olive branches tonight,” Patrick said. He signaled for Twyla.

David watched as Patrick paid. “You liked them?” he said, kind of hating himself for asking.

“They were excellent."

_Excellent in what way?_ David wanted to ask, but that was pathetic. He stood up. Patrick stood up too, and took his hand, and David let himself be led out of the cafe.

*

In the car, Patrick said. “Can I just say one thing?”

“About what,” David muttered.

“Can I tell you why Rachel and I kept breaking up?”

“Fine,” David said. He knew he sounded petulant. Then he said, “Okay, why?”

“I’ve told you that it didn’t feel right. What I mean is, I liked her, I even thought I loved her, but I didn’t really like … having sex with her.”

Patrick was looking tense and embarrassed, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Okay,” David said.

“It sometimes felt like … like kind of a chore. Something I had to psych myself up for. I had to remind myself to touch her. Not even just to—have sex, but in between too, just being affectionate. It always felt like an effort, and I couldn’t figure out why.”

David tried to wrap his head around that. David was not like that at all; he was the furthest thing from that. Like, he’d had lots of bad sex in his life: sex that hurt, unsatisfying sex; sex that left him feeling used, empty and alone. But sex was something that he’d always been up for. Like, someone crooked their little finger at him and he would just be panting for it. David felt a shiver of shame. 

But this wasn’t about David; it wasn’t supposed to be. This was obviously hard for Patrick to talk about; David could see the muscle in his jaw, clenching and unclenching, as he stared straight ahead. David put his hand on Patrick’s leg, and Patrick brought a hand down to cover it. 

David cleared his throat. “It never occurred to you that you might be gay?” 

“No, it did,” Patrick said, surprising David.

“You always talk like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know _for sure_. I didn’t know anything for sure. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t feel what I was supposed to feel. When I tried dating other girls, other than Rachel, it was the same … or worse. So being gay was one explanation, but I also thought maybe … I just wasn’t a very sexual person.”

David felt an insane desire to laugh, but he managed to hold it back. It would be awful to laugh; Patrick was still looking so strained and miserable. David thought about how Patrick was when they had sex: so into it, so hot and hungry; he thought of how affectionate Patrick was, all the time, constantly touching him and giving him little kisses. It all seemed such a natural part of who he was. It was hard to imagine him not being like that.

Patrick pulled up in front of the restaurant and turned off the car. David didn’t move. It felt easier to talk in the dark. He said, “But you also thought you might be gay.”

“It just seemed like a logical possibility, something I should consider.”

“That’s it? A logical possibility? So, no crushes on guys?”

“Nothing … definitive. Looking back, yeah. There was a guy on my high school baseball team. He was two years older than me and the best player on our team. Looking back, I guess it was kind of a crush.”

David felt a pang, thinking of Patrick as a teenager longing for the hot guy on the baseball team and not even knowing what he was feeling. “I bet he was into you, too,” he said.

Patrick shook his head at him. “He wasn’t. There were some other things like that. But nothing that made me think, this is it, for sure. And I lived in this small town where everyone knew me. It was hard to think of ways to—figure anything out.”

David said, “So you never tried ...” he trailed off.

Patrick said, “I did go to a gay bar, once.”

David felt breathless. He didn’t know having The Talk would give him stories like this. “When?”

“It was a few years ago. Rachel and I had broken up again, and I was traveling to Toronto a lot for the job I had. So, I thought I’d go to a gay bar and see—how I felt.”

David thought of Patrick thinking that being gay was “a logical possibility” and methodically going about testing his hypothesis. “And?”

“I just sat there for awhile, feeling really awkward. Then a guy came up and started talking to me.” Patrick was looking inward, looking really tense again. David wanted to tell him, _you don’t have to tell me,_ but he actually really really wanted Patrick to tell him. 

“When he found I was from out of town, he clearly thought I was just there for a hookup. Which I probably should have realized. He offered to …”

David said, “What?” but he could guess where this was going.

“Go into the bathroom with me and—” Patrick jaw clenched again, “and blow me. I said no and kind of tried to pass it off as a joke, and he said something about my wife or girlfriend at home would never know.”

Patrick paused. David’s heart was aching for Patrick, thinking of it.

“I—I felt … gross, because it felt like he was kind of right? I didn’t have a girlfriend, then, but I was straight, I mean, I thought I was. Probably.”

“He wasn’t right,” David said. He felt fiercely angry at this man for taking Patrick’s first shy and tentative exploration of his sexuality and stomping all over it.

_You would have gone in the bathroom,_ his brain whispered. David shook the thought away.

Patrick said, “I told myself, since I reacted like that, it meant I wasn’t gay, and anyway if I was gay I would know by now. I was sick of wondering about it. When I went home I got back together with Rachel, and then I told her we should just get married.”

“Oh,” David said blankly, his visions of Patrick’s romantic proposal to Rachel disintegrating.

Patrick was smiling, a little self-mocking half smile. “Kind of pathetic, huh? A guy offers me a blow job, and I run away and propose.”

David shook his head. “You’re not pathetic.” Suddenly he was overwhelmed with the idea that Patrick had spent so many years of his life being in a relationship that was wrong, not enjoying sex but trying to force it, wondering and wondering what the problem was. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick brought his hand up to squeezed David’s arm. They stayed like that for a minute. Then David kissed him on the temple. “Let’s get cake,” he said.

*

David ordered the chocolate mousse cake and hot chocolate, and Patrick ordered berry crisp and a cup of tea.

“Berry crisp is not dessert,” David told him. “It’s fruit.”

“I think it has sugar in it,” Patrick said. “And it has whipped cream on top.”

“Putting whipped cream on things does not make it dessert. They put whipped cream on coffee. And Italian sodas.” 

Patrick was looking at him with a little smile. “Did you want me to order something else?”

David felt disgruntled, because he did want Patrick to order something else, so David could have a bite, but Patrick should have what he wanted. “No,” he said.

Patrick said, “I was thinking about the almond torte.”

David pursed his lips.

“Or maybe the caramel cheesecake?”

David said hopefully, “You might like that.”

Patrick said, “Hold on.” He got up to find the waitress. 

When he got back, David said, “So, um, you might as well tell me the rest.”

“Are you sure? We can be done for tonight.”

“Tell me what made you break it off for good.”

The waitress brought Patrick’s tea and David’s hot chocolate. David’s hot chocolate had whipped cream on it, and Patrick said, “So hot chocolate is not dessert?”

“It’s a _drink_,” David said. He knew Patrick was teasing him, but really, that was ridiculous.

Patrick suppressed a smile. He sipped his tea.

David prompted him. “So …”

Patrick said, “Okay. I actually think I knew right away that I’d made a mistake. We started fighting, and we never used to fight much. But, we started planning the wedding, because after all the back and forth I felt like I couldn’t back out again.”

“But you did. Back out.”

Patrick was looking uncomfortable. “Yeah. It’s so stupid. What happened was—when we were planning the wedding, she broke her leg. She got this full cast on her leg and we kind of put the wedding plans on hold.” Patrick paused. “Also, with the way her cast was, it was hard for her to—she couldn’t—we couldn’t—“

“I get it,” David said quickly.

Patrick was looking down, and he said softly, “She actually felt bad for me, but the truth was, it was such a relief. Those six weeks were probably the happiest I ever was with her. I realized I was dreading her getting her cast off, and that’s when I knew that I couldn’t marry her. I mean, I was turning into someone who was glad my girlfriend broke her leg so I didn’t have to have sex with her. So—I left. I just ran away—I didn’t have any kind of plan, and I ended up in Schitt’s Creek.”

Patrick let out a breath. He seemed glad to have the story finished. David reached out and touched his hand. 

The waitress brought the mousse cake and the cheesecake. David was feeling proud of himself. He had talked about his feelings and listened and asked questions and been a supportive boyfriend. He had survived. He took a bite of mousse cake. He definitely deserved this.

Patrick looked down at his cheesecake but didn’t pick up his fork. He said, “I really treated Rachel badly. I wasted a lot of her time, years of her life. She didn’t deserve that. She’s really a great person, really nice—“

“Okay,” David interrupted, because there was being honest, and then there was TMI.

*

After David had eaten his mousse cake and half of Patrick’s cheesecake, he said tentatively, “So when you met me …”

“When I met you, I finally had the definitive feeling I was looking for,” Patrick said. 

David waited, afraid if he said anything it would be too obvious how much he wanted to hear more. But Patrick knew anyway, dammit—he sipped his tea, smiling.

“Definitive how?” David finally asked.

“Just definitive.”

David hated him. He tried again. “So _when_ did you have this feeling?” he said. He deserved something. He had had The Talk! David was going to get a compliment even if he had to force it out of him.

Patrick said, “I guess it was our first meeting. Or maybe the second.”

Their first meeting? Oh, this was good. “Was it my outfit?”

“Oh, hold on, that’s it. Was it black and white, maybe a sweater?”

David gave him a death glare. He said, “Well, if it wasn’t that, what was it?”

“I … noticed you,” Patrick said.

“But what did you notice _about_ me?”

“I noticed you had a good idea, but you were appallingly ignorant about business, and you desperately needed my help.”

This was maddening. David said, “Well,_ I_ noticed you had a nice ass.”

Patrick looked pleased. “You thought that?”

“Yes. Now you’re supposed to tell me about _your_ definitive moment.”

“You noticing my ass was a definitive moment for you?”

David pressed his lips together. He could hold back too. 

Patrick smiled at him, his face suddenly so soft and tender that David caught his breath. “You left me all those voicemails,” Patrick said, “and I listened to them, and I knew your idea was good. And then you came back with your messed-up forms, and you were so embarrassed. It was cute. I teased you a little bit, and you smiled at me. I liked that I could make you smile. I liked your smile.”

“My smile was the definitive moment?” David said. No one had ever told him that they liked his smile.

“Yes.” Patrick’s eyes dipped to David’s lips. His voice was husky. “I liked your mouth … in general. After you left I kept thinking about it. Your mouth.”

David felt pleased; he was very, very pleased. “Mm. Maybe tell me more about that.” He licked his lips.

“Hmm. I think maybe we should get back,” Patrick said. He signaled to the waitress. 

Outside the restaurant, Patrick stopped and pulled David in for a kiss. “I still like your mouth,” he whispered.

*

Patrick asked him to stay the night at Ray’s, so they stopped at the motel for David to get his things. Patrick stayed in the car while David went inside. When he walked in, Alexis was sitting at her desk with papers spread all around. She looked over at him. 

She said, “It’s too bad you guys got back together. I was going to hook you up during Singles Week. I could have found someone new for both of you.”

David said, “Mm, why don’t you fuck off.” He got out his bag and started putting clothes in it.

Alexis watched him. “Well?”

“What?”

“Tell me all the details! How did you get back together? What did Patrick say? Did he tell you about Rachel?”

“I’ll have you know we just had a very healthy and mature conversation about her,” David informed her. He went into the bathroom for his toiletries and moisturizers.

When he picked up his toothbrush from the side of the sink, David caught sight of himself in the mirror. He smiled experimentally. It didn’t look that special to him.

“So did you tell him all the gory details about your exes?” Alexis called to him.

David watched his smile fade in the mirror. He came out of the bathroom and started carefully putting his moisturizer bottles in the side pocket of his bag. “We didn’t really get into that,” he said.

“Probably for the best,” Alexis said. 

*

When they got to Ray’s, the house was dark. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll be asleep,” Patrick said. 

They crept in through the living room, not turning on any lights. They got to Patrick’s door and Patrick opened it quietly. 

“Patrick!” Ray suddenly appeared, and David jumped. “I thought I heard you come in!” Then he saw David. “David! Does this mean you boys have worked out your differences?” He looked delighted at the idea.

“Holy fuck,” David muttered.

“Hello, Ray,” Patrick said, smiling politely.

Ray said, “I am so happy for you both! Especially you, Patrick.” He turned to David and said confidentially, “Patrick has been moping around the house all week. He’s been very unhappy. But now I can see he’s smiling again!” Ray clasped his hands together. He was positively overjoyed.

Patrick’s smile had frozen on his face. “All right, Ray, we’ll say goodnight now,” he said.

“Goodnight, gentlemen!” Ray said. 

They went into Patrick’s room and closed the door. “Fuck,” David said. “Does everyone in town know our business?”

Patrick laughed. 

“Were you really moping around the house all week?”

“Ray likes to exaggerate,” Patrick said. He started unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” David asked.

Patrick took his shirt off and tossed it in the laundry basket. His hands moved to his jeans and and he unbuttoned and unzipped them. “Putting on my PJs?” he said.

David came up to him. “There’s no hurry, is there?” he said. He slid his hands back and forth across Patrick’s shoulders and then looped his arms around his neck. 

Patrick tilted up his face to kiss him, and immediately the kiss turned heated, and Patrick was pushing him toward the bed. “Mm,” David said, between kisses. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Patrick said, and they fell back on the bed together. Patrick was kissing him and putting his hands under David’s sweater. David thought of Patrick thinking he wasn’t a very sexual person, and he wanted to fuck him senseless, a thousand times, over and over. David let Patrick pull his sweater over his head, and then he rolled them both over so Patrick was beneath him, and pinned his hands to the bed. Patrick seemed surprised but kept kissing him back eagerly; but then as soon as David slackened his grip he pushed back, surprisingly strong, and rolled them back over so he was on top again. 

David felt the need rise up intensely inside him. He raked his nails down Patrick’s back, and Patrick responded by biting down hard on David’s lip; and then David got him rolled over again and was pinning his arms down; and Patrick was pushing back but at the same time he was kissing him open-mouthed and making these little whimpering sounds and pressing his hips up into him. Patrick was just so _hungry_; David felt like he was on fire.

Then David tried to reach down to get Patrick’s jeans off but it was hopeless; they just got more and more tangled. That was the trouble with trying ravish someone—getting someone’s clothes off was always more trouble than it looked like in the movies.

He pulled back so Patrick could take them off. “Yours too,” Patrick said, and David took off his underwear and pants. When they were both naked David got back on top of him and got his mouth on Patrick’s neck and sucked on it, pulling the skin into his mouth.

“David, are you giving me a hickey?” Patrick said, his voice a little breathless.

David sucked in a little bit more skin, just for good measure. He pulled back. “Yes,” he said. “I just gave you a _full_ hickey,” he said.

Patrick laughed. “That is so wildly unprofess—“ he started to say, but David reached between them and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, and Patrick broke off with a little indrawn breath.

“Do you remember that night at Stevie’s?” David said. 

“Of course I do,” Patrick said softly.

This was one of the first things David had shown Patrick that night, how they could move together, their cocks together; so simple and so sexy. David remembered the look on Patrick’s face; his eyes full of heat and wonder, like he’d never felt anything like it in his life. Now, David knew how true that was.

David reached over to the nightstand where he thought Patrick kept some lube, but he couldn’t see it. He fumbled around, knocking a book to the floor. “Where the fuck is the lube?” he said.

Patrick sat up. He turned to get it from behind the lamp, and David got a good view of the hickey, red and purple on Patrick’s smooth white neck. It was very satisfying. _Mine_, he thought. 

Maybe that was primitive; he didn’t care.

Patrick gave him the lube and lay back down. He seemed content, now, to let David take the lead. Maybe he was thinking of that night at Stevie’s too. 

David spread lube on Patrick’s cock and around his abdomen, and then did the same for himself. He put one thigh between Patrick’s legs and wrapped his hand around both of them again, and started to move. 

David closed his eyes, loving the hot slick feeling of Patrick’s cock against his. Patrick put his hands on David's back and pressed into him hard with his blunt fingernails, and David moved faster and faster, feeling Patrick hips coming up to meet his; feeling the urgency build; feeling them both hard and wet and slippery in his hand, until it was hard to tell what was him and what was Patrick.

David lifted up a little, propping himself on his other hand, so he could see Patrick; Patrick’s eyes met his, and David saw the same look that he remembered from that first night—heat and wonder, but now with something more, something tender and beautiful—and that look pushed him over the edge, but even as he was coming he kept moving, wrapping his hand more firmly around Patrick’s cock, and kept his eyes on him, watching for the moment when Patrick went over the edge too, and when he did he was so beautiful David wanted it to last forever. 

*

Later, they lay curled up together, David with his head on Patrick’s chest. It was dark, and he felt nice and warm in Patrick's arms. He thought about everything they had talked about tonight, and what they hadn’t. 

He whispered, “You told me all about your past today. Did you want to ask me anything about mine?”

He felt Patrick’s arms tighten around him. “Only if you want to,” Patrick said. “Rachel was an important part of my past, so you deserved to know. If you think there’s something important, you can tell me.”

David thought about that. “Um. You know I’ve been with a lot of people.”

“Yes, I know.” Patrick brought his hand up and stroked his hair.

“Nobody—for very long.”

“I know.”

“Does it bother you?” David said. He held his breath.

“No,” Patrick said. “Not in the way you mean. It bothers me that people hurt you, because I know they did.” His hugged David to him, hard. “It makes me angry to think of people using you.”

David loved the feeling of Patrick holding so tightly, hearing the protective note in his voice. But, he thought, Patrick was wrong. “But it was me,” David whispered. “I let them. I wanted it.”

“You didn’t want them to hurt you.”

“No, but I wanted the—sex. Even when it was bad, I wanted it. I always wanted it.”

“David, wanting and liking sex doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t mean you deserved to be treated badly.”

“But—”

Patrick suddenly scooted down, and took David’s face in his hands. David thought he’d never seen Patrick look so fierce. He said, “David, none of those people deserved you, even a little. You’re beautiful and amazing and special, and every day I think about how lucky I am.” He kissed him, hard. “Okay?”

David nodded. He could feel tears pricking in his eyes. “Okay,” he said.

Patrick moved back up and folded him back in his arms. “Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

David didn’t trust his voice. “No,” he finally said.

“Okay. Goodnight, David,” Patrick whispered.

“Goodnight,” David said softly.

_Beautiful and amazing and special._ David wasn’t sure he believed it, but Patrick believed it, and David hugged that knowledge to himself.

He closed his eyes. He felt warm and safe, pressed up against Patrick’s body; Patrick's arms wrapped around him, holding him close. It was exactly where he wanted to be.

_Always_, he thought. And for once it didn’t feel like tempting fate.


End file.
